The Sun In The North
by DarylDixon'sLover
Summary: Princess Alysanne Martell had lived an easy and comfortable life in Dorne; until now. Forced into the North, she finds herself struggling to cope not only with her new home, but with her feelings for a peculiar bastard boy. Rated M for sexual scenes, violence and language. Jon/OC. Robb/OC, Sansa/Theon Greyjoy, Euron Greyjoy/Alys Karstark. Co – Written with dancewithdragons.
1. The Sun Of Dorne

Summary: Princess Alysanne Martell had lived an easy and comfortable life in Dorne; until now. Forced into the North, she finds herself struggling to cope not only with her new home, but with her feelings for a peculiar bastard boy. Rated M for sexual scenes, violence and language. Jon/OC. Robb/OC, Sansa/Theon Greyjoy, Euron Greyjoy/Alys Karstark. Co – Written with dancewithdragons.

The Sun In The North

Chapter 1

* * *

Princess Alysanne Martell had been summoned by her father to come to the council chambers after she made herself presentable and she did as he asked.

She got into a soothing hot bath with rose petals to scent the bath as her handmaiden Elena washed her thick glossy black wavy curls and she scrubbed her olive skin with the lavender soap that was on a small plate before rinsing off and Elena wrapped a towel around her before she dried off and put on a clean shift and Elena pulled out a light blue dress with embroidered red flowers on the sleeves and hemline before she put it on along with a pair of shoes.

"Did my father say why the meeting was so urgent?" Alysanne asked Elena as the older girl braided her thick black curls which shone in the light.

"No he did not, my lady." Elena said as she looked at her charge who looked presentable and walked alongside her as they reached the council room.

Alysanne bid Elena goodbye before knocking gently on the door.

"Enter." Her father called out and she opened the door before comin in.

Doran Martell sat behind a long, dark wood table, leaning forward on his elbows with a look of angst in his eyes. "Sit, Alysanne," he said, and she could almost feel the exhaustion in his voice. When she seated herself to his right, he took her hand. "I have been in contact with Jon Arryn, the king's Hand."

Alysanne raised a brow. "Jon Arryn? Why?" Something was strange about the way her father regarded her, his cool brown eyes focused but distant. "Has something happened?"

Silence ensued for what seemed an eternity before Doran spoke again. "I have made a contract through Jon Arryn, to send you to Winterfell."

She sat up straighter, frowning. "Father, your jests are not appreciated." His quiet demeanour made her heart quicken. "You cannot be serious? My place is here, in Dorne, with you. I won't just up and ride for the North."

Doran stood, unsteadily at that due to his gout, and turned to the windows. Sunlight turned his pale white hair golden and his skin glowed. "Had Jon Arryn had his way, you would have left as a babe. I've kept you as long as I can, but for the good of Dorne you must do this. Honour your family and go, child."

"Why, father?" She rose as well, making her way to him. "What is the point of me going North? Can we not send Trystane or Quentyn? Why must it be me?"

He moved to face her and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm sorry, my child. You will leave within the week's end."

Angry, Alysanne turned on her heel and gathered her golden silks in her fists before running out the room, raven curls flowing behind her. How could her own father sell her to the wolves? How could he turn her away? His own daughter?

She felt tears slide down her sun kissed cheeks and ran outside to the gardens as her father watched from the windows and sighed heavily as his younger brother Oberyn sat down in a chair.

"It's a mistake sending her there." Oberyn growled warningly.

Doran sighed.

"Jon Arryn believes we need to make alliances and...Heal rifts." He said finally.

Oberyn snorted.

"Caused by that she wolf bitch." He spat in disgust.

"Lyanna Stark is not the one who murdered our sister and her children," Doran said pointedly. "It was Tywin Lannister who sent the orders, and it is the Lannisters we have to thank for their deaths." Painfully, he remembered his sister's sweet smile and her quick wit.

Oberyn glowered, stabbing a knife through the table top. "The Starks were some of the main supporters in the Rebellion, and you dare say they are not also to blame? Elia is dead because of that icy cunt." Whipping around to face his brother, the Prince of Dorne felt his heart wilt. Doran had loved Elia dearly, but Oberyn had loved her ever more. "You'll not send your child away to live with the wolves," Oberyn said, as though what he said was law.

"It's already been decided," Doran said simply, seating himself once more. "We need to gain alliances, not burn them."

His brother grimaced. "To live in the cold, away from the family she has known her whole life. Turned away by her own father for what, a makeshift alliance that will not last? You are a coward for this, Doran."

Doran watched his brother go with disdain before returning to the window to watch his daughter. Alysanne had her feet in the water, her knees drawn up to her face. She looked rather like Elia sometimes, he thought, especially now, with her silks blowing in the breeze and her pouting lips. Elia was sent off as well, once, to King's Landing. He prayed the snow be kinder to his daughter than the fire was to his sister.

* * *

Alysanne felt tears slide down her face as she looked at the clear water, she was being sent to the North like some slave and she hoped to the seven that she wouldn't marry a Northerner.

She wiped her eyes as Nymeria sat down next to her.

"Don't cry." Her cousin implored.

She nodded and wiped her eyes.

"He wouldn't do it to his precious Arianne."

"Arianne is the heir to Dorne, of course he won't send her away. And Quentyn was his only boy by the time that they were brokering that deal. You were his second daughter." Nym's words stung, but the truth of them rang in Alysanne's ears. Kindly, Nymeria wrapped her arm around her shoulder and held her close. "We will find a way to stop this madness. Dorne is your place, not Winterfell."

Alysanne smiled half-heartedly. "I would forever be in your debt, sweet cousin."

Nymeria went to practice her new knives, and Alysanne took the opportunity to return to her chambers. The open breeze chilled her and she pulled on a shawl of ivory samite. If she were shivering from an easy summer breeze, she feared for the cold of the North. Tentatively, she looked through her wardrobe. She would need all new gowns, in the northern fashion opposed to that of the Dornish. She would freeze to death if she remained in her silks and her thin robes.

Her fingers traced back and forth between her dresses sadly, remembering a happy moment in each one before she closed the closet doors and sat on the edge of her featherbed. "Elena," she called faintly.

Her maid was at her side in an instant. "My lady?"

"Send for the kitchens, please. Spiced duck, perhaps, and soft boiled eggs. And wine." She relaxed on her plush cushions as the woman left her, imagining life at Winterfell and how out of place she would look with her olive skin and dark hair. The idea of it was absurd, a Martell housing with wolves. It made her angry.

_'I'm a Princess of Dorne_,' she reminded herself sternly as she looked up at the ceiling, not some brood mare to be sold for a few coins. Father will rue the day I depart for the North, he will rue it and remember it well.

She nodded and began sewing some patterns on a piece of silk as her older sister, Arianne entered with Ellaria, her uncle Oberyn's paramour and mother of their four youngest children.

"Father just told us, sister." Arianne told her sympathy in her dark brown smoky eyes.

"I need to get new warm gowns." She said sighing.

"We'll do that tomorrow." Ellaria told her as Elena came in with the food, she had asked for.

She put away her needles and silk and dined slowly, not even tasting the food. "I don't wish to go," Alysanne confessed to her sister and Uncle's paramour. "I want to stay here, in Dorne."

Arianne went to her side and stole a bite of duck meat from her plate. "It is a great honour, sister, that you should represent Dorne in the North." Her words were honey but they felt like ice. She did not want to hear about what a great honour it was. In truth, it felt more of a punishment, and she knew Arianne would say the same if she were sent away.

"Your father will bring you home as soon as he can, I'm sure," Ellaria said soothingly, sitting beside her and running her fingers through her hair. "He loves you, Alys, dearly."

She felt scorned. Her father might love her, but what respect did he have for her? She had been raised as a princess, with all the rights and freedom as a princess, but had now been demoted from her station, it seemed, to be the forgotten daughter of a dornishman, left to turn to ice in the North.

"It won't be so bad," Arianne said softly. "Truly. You'll be the only dornishwoman there, you'll have them eating out of your palms before the first night's stay is over. You'll get to see snow and ride horses and if you like it up there, you'll have your pick of any man in the North, sweet sister."

Alysanne raised a brow. "I don't care about snow or horses or men. I'd give it all up to live in Dorne for the rest of my days."

Ellaria patted her hand gently. "You will come visit us, every year. And you will have a hefty allowance."

"I could buy all the rocks in the North," she said dryly, rolling her eyes. Elena came and took the empty tray from her.

Arianne laid luxuriously on her bed and shrugged. "Had it been me, I'd be excited for the adventure." It was an obscene lie, Alysanne knew. Her sister would kick and scream and have to be chained and carried if she were to go North. The thought of Arianne smiling at the snow made her almost want to laugh.

"If you don't like Winterfell, we can always ask Doran to bring you home and send Trystane instead." Ellaria's black waves fell heavily onto a cushion as she reclined, her orange gown glowing in the sunlight that trickled through the windows.

Alysanne shook her head. "I've asked him about sending Trystane. He said nothing. I assume he has bigger plans for my brother than to wither away in the North." And yet I will be the one to perish from the ice and snow, Alys thought coldly, crossing her arms.

"Mayhaps they mean to marry you to Lord Stark's son. I hear he's nearly of an age," said Arianne, who carelessly tugged on the lacing back of a bodice that had been strewn on the floor. "Maybe they want you for that Greyjoy boy that's warding there, or the bastard son."

"Bastard son?" Alysanne raised a brow. "Lord Stark has a bastard?" For a man with famed brutal honour, she'd never guessed he would have fathered a bastard son.

Arianne sat up and nodded. "Same age as his other son. They say he looks a Stark, with those grey eyes and a long face. They say he's silent as a stone."

Alysanne pressed her lips together, she didn't have any problems with bastards, she was very close to her cousins who were all bastards and looked at her sister intently.

"What's his name?" She asked curiously.

Arianne smiled.

"Jon Snow." She told her.

"Lady Catelyn hates him." Ellaria told her.

"Why, for being a bastard?" Alysanne asked angry.

"That and being rumoured to be Ashara Dayne's son." Ellaria told her.

Alysanne felt angry on behalf of Jon Snow.

"She sounds like a bitch." She said finally.

Arianne snorted.

"She's a Tully."

"Sister of that Edmure you wanted to marry," Alysanne reminded her sister, smiling. "Ashara Dayne and Eddard Stark... I don't see how it could have come to be. I thought it was Brandon Stark she loved?"

"She loved none better than her brother," Ellaria said sadly. "I cried when I heard her fate." It was well known throughout Dorne that Ashara had thrown herself from Palestone Sword after the news of Arthur's death had reached her.

Arianne rolled over on the bed. "I wonder if Stark ever even told the boy who his mother was."

"It would be a shame to never know your mother," Alysanne agreed, remembering her own mother. Mellario was a kind mother, but between the fighting over Quentyn and the loss of appeal, their marriage had crumbled. It made her heart wrench, and she wished that her mother hadn't run to Norvos, and had stayed in Dorne despite it all.

"Catelyn Stark is as cold as a frozen trout if she couldn't love that boy," Alys said decidedly, shaking her head. The customs of the rest of the realm were much different than in Dorne; bastards were impurities, whereas in Dorne, there were the same as those with titles. She felt sorrow for the Snow, knowing just how bad bastards could be treated. She would be livid if any of her cousins were treated as they treat bastards in the rest of Westeros.

Just then, Ellaria's Obella and Elia came waltzing in. The poor little El smelled like horse again, and Obella was sticky with mud. "I would think you were farmer's girls with the way you look and smell," their mother said with a laugh. "Come, let's wash and then we'll call your father in for dinner."

She watched her uncle's paramour leave, the woman walking with a sway to her hip that Alysanne was envious of. Arianne sighed beside her. "It shall be dull here without you, sister," she said.

"You have our cousins," Alys pointed out, leaning back on the cushions and relaxing. "Obara and Nym and Tyene will be here, and the girls. And Trystane."

"But you'll be gone, and I'll forever be bored without your presence." Alysanne had always been jealous and perhaps even spiteful of her elder sister, who was buxom and manipulative and the heir to Sunspear, but times like this, when she let it be known just how much she loved her little sister, Alys found it hard to dislike her.

She smiled. "Mayhaps you should go to Winterfell with me, then," she jested lightly, nudging her sister with her shoulder.

"I'd sooner melt in this glorious sun," Arianne said, sprawling out on the bed and grinning as the twinkling sunlight warmed her body. "But when you get there, be sure to write and tell me who the Snow's mother is. I'll send you ten golden stags if it's Ashara Dayne."

"A deal." Alysanne promised and paused.

Something didn't feel right.

"Arianne, how old was Ashara when she died?" She asked curiously.

"Twenty one years old." Her sister said frowning.

Alysanne frowned.

Everyone knew that Lady Lyanna had been found in the Tower of Joy by her older brother Eddard Stark and his banner men.

"Jon would be older than Robb then, he'd be my age." She said biting into an orange.

"Maybe he isn't Eddard Stark's son." Arianne said thoughtfully.

"Then who is his parents?" She said lookin at her.

"I'm sure you'll find out."

The sun had begun fading by the time that Arianne had decided to leave. They'd spent the rest of the day together talking about memories they shared. It only helped to make Alysanne more miserable. She would be leaving behind so much. Her friends, her family, those who made her feel safe, all gone. It pained her.

She untwisted the curtains from their wall-mounts and let the fabric hang, heavy and dark, rolling all the way to the floor. A maid came and lit the brazier, tucking it under her covers to keep her warm through the night. She thanked the girl and closed her doors to the world, sighing deeply. Her days in Dorne were numbered, and before she knew it the week would be up, and she would be enroute to the North.

She pulled away her soft silks and slid into a thin shift, moving to the vanity and running a brush through her thick black curls and plaiting them. Even though the room was nearly ablaze with a fire burning and the hot pan warming her bed, she felt cold all over. She couldn't imagine leaving behind her priceless Myrish rugs and the lovely ivory-backed mirror that she'd gotten from her mother, a treasure of Norvos. Her set of silver bells that rang delicately in the wind would have to be left behind, and her fathoms of silk to sew.

Alysanne reluctantly climbed into bed and relished in the comforting way it melted for her body, knowing that on the road and even in Winterfell, there would be no mattress quite like that one. She could feel her father kissing her goodnight as a child in that bed, feel as her sister and brother piled beside her as they told each other scary wives tales. Her heart ached; and sleeping away her last moments in Dorne were not appealing, but her eyelids grew heavy and soon she felt the world grow distant, dreams of spice and sunshine filling her mind.

* * *

Jon Snow knew there was a reason why his Lord Father had summoned him to his solar and he quickly hurried there, trying to ignore the nerves running through him as he reached his father.

"My lord?" He asked politely.

"Sit down Jon, I need to tell you something." Eddard said gently to his son.

Jon nodded and sat down.

He felt nervous and his back ached from the whips Lady Stark had given him.

There was a fire going in the hearth and candles were lit all around his lord father's desk. The lighting was dim and flickering, but Jon could still see the concern on the face of Lord Stark. "Are you alright?" asked his father, raising a brow and looking him up and down.

He hadn't noticed his stance, rigid and taught, and he quickly moved to sit in the seat across from his father, ignoring the burning sensation in his back. "Yes," he replied. "What did you need to tell me?"

Lord Stark exhaled deeply, rubbing his thumbs over his temples. "Jon, I need to tell you about your mother." His tone was not angry, or even despairing. He sounded sad. "I've kept it from you for so long, but with the king coming in only a month's time... you need to know." Silence crept into the room like an unwanted guest, sneaking along the walls and tickling the air between them. When Jon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his father finally spoke again. "Your mother was Lyanna Stark, my sister."

Jon stared, wide-eyed and gaping. "Lyanna Stark?"

"Your father, Jon, is Rhaegar Targaryen."

Jon felt as though it were a jest, but his lord father did not jest. "I'm the son of Prince Rhaegar and your sister?" The words felt like they were made of acid and bile rose from his belly. "You're not my father?"

Lord Stark pursed his lips together and shook his head, looking away. This man that he had thought was his father his whole life could not even look him in the eyes. He felt sick to his stomach. "I know it's hard for you to understand, Jon," Lord Stark began, frowning. "Rhaegar crowning Lyanna at the Tourney of Harrenhal was only the beginning. She would write to me of him; always discreetly, but I knew. When they ran away together, Jon, they married."

"Rhaegar Targaryen already had a wife," Jon said pointedly, wanting to hear anything but this.

"Targaryens have been known for polygamy," his father reminded him. "They went to the Red Mountains of Dorne and took shelter in the Tower of Joy. When we reached her, it was too late. She was in a bed of blood and she had... she had you in her arms, squealing and holding your arms out for her. She made me promise not to tell a soul about you, to raise you as my own. I couldn't even tell Catelyn. If anyone knew, Robert would have had you killed."

Jon's head was spinning. "Why are you telling me all this now?"

"Because, Jon, I can see some of Rhaegar in you. In your eyes. You must stay as far away from Robert as you can. If he finds out, he'll have all of our heads for hiding you." His father held his hand out, on his palm was a dainty silver ring. "This was your mother's," he said gently.

Jon took the ring and slid it between his fingers, his chest tightening. This was his mother's, it had been on her finger once. He pressed it into his pocket and rose. "Thank you," he said quietly before departing.

Jon felt his heart ache as he thought of his mother, he now knew who she was and where she came from.

She had been Lyanna Stark, the rose of the North.

He reached the Godswood and sat down before pulling out the ring.

It was a silver ring with a direwolf's head.

He fought back tears as he saw Robb come over.

It didn't matter who his parents were, Lord Eddard Stark was still his father.

* * *

"The Princess from Dorne is coming in a week." Robb told his younger brother.

Jon felt intrigued.

Princess?

"Which one?" Jon asked. There were two Dornish Princesses, he knew. Maester Luwin had made him study Dorne just a few years back.

"Alysanne Martell," Robb informed him, "She's of an age with us. I hear she's beautiful. I bet she'll be here just about when the king arrives. I wonder if she'll travel by ship or by horse."

Jon shrugged. "Carriage, I suppose."

Robb fell into a hearty laugh and slapped his brother on the back. Cringing and fighting back tears, Jon forced a smile to his face and laughed along with his brother, though his back now throbbed with pain. "Such a joker," Robb said lightly, shaking his head as he chuckled.

"Why is a princess of Dorne coming to Winterfell?" Jon asked quizzically as they walked together from the Godswood to the great hall.

"She'll be a fosterling here," Robb said. "Something about mending broken bonds between Houses Stark and Martell. Father might make a match of her to one of us, but nothing is official." The redhead grinned brightly and entered the hall, grabbing an apple and taking a big bite.

Jon took an apple himself and sat beside his brother, Theon joining them. So much information in such a short period of time was making him dizzy. His father was not his father, his actual father was a prince, his mother was dead, the king would be coming to Winterfell within the month's end, and now a princess of Dorne? Jon sighed deeply. It was all he could do not to go mad.

"Do you think she's a maid?" Theon asked smirking.

"She probably is, she apparently resembles her late aunt." Robb said biting into his apple as the three young men talked when Theon swallowed slightly and took a drink of wine.

"Maybe Jon will finally bed her and not be a maid." Theon said smirking.

Jon glared at the Greyjoy heir in annoyance.

"Shut up." He said feeling his cheeks heat up.

Theon shrugged as Arya ran over.

"Is she a Sand Snake?" She asked excitedly.

Jon was deep red, not yet over Theon's light hearted jest. "She's the daughter of Doran Martell, not Oberyn. Her cousins are the Sand Snakes," he told his little sister, ruffling up her hair.

Robb tossed a piece of boar down for his direwolf, Grey Wind, and Jon fed his Ghost a bit of soft-boiled egg. "Is she bringing her cousins?" Arya asked, holding her wolf pup close.

"Father said she's to come alone," Robb said looking at her.

"I bet she'll enjoy the name you picked for your pup," Jon said, smiling at the girl. She was only nine, but she was already a lively little thing, always wanting to ride a horse and shoot her bow. She was the only Stark that actually looked like a Stark.

Sansa entered the hall in all her Tully-coloured glory, red hair glimmering and her light blue gown pristine. Her direwolf Lady walked slowly beside her. "Mother just told me that a Dornish Princess is coming," she said excitedly.

"We already know, stupid," Arya said in a tired tone.

Robb shot her a look and the little wolf girl apologized quickly. "Say you're sorry all you want, but when the princess comes mother said that she'll be rooming next to me, and you can't talk like that with her around or you'll get in trouble." Sansa held her chin high and continued on to gossip to Jeyne Poole.

"I don't care if the stupid princess hears me," Arya muttered, pushing her plate away and running off with her direwolf, Nymeria.

"She probably hates us all." Bran pointed out as he glanced at his older siblings who were all feeding their direwolves something to eat and Jon sighed heavily.

"I'm sure she won't hate us." He assured Bran.

"But our family fought against hers and are responsible for the deaths of her aunt, two cousins and great uncle." Bran said sadly.

"All because Aunt Lyanna couldn't keep her legs shut, she's dishonoured our family." Sansa said disgusted.

Jon kept quiet, Lyanna was his mother.

And he was alive instead of his two half siblings.

Gods help him.

"Why is she coming alone?" Rickon asked confused as he sat on Jon's lap.

Jon found it hard to hide his disgust in Sansa's blatant lack of respect for her family, and instead ruffed up Rickon's red mane. "Because the rest of her family has duties in Dorne, I suppose. Odds are she'll have a few maids and maybe even a personal guard, so she won't be completely alone."

"But she won't have her family?" He shook his head and Rickon looked down, sad. "I would really miss my family."

"She'll go see them every so often, I'm sure," Jon said. "But from when she arrives, and for many years on, this will be her home."

"How come they didn't send her as a babe?" Bran asked, brow raised. "Father said it was arranged after the Rebellion, but she's not coming until now?"

Jon shrugged. "I'm sure her family wanted to spend as much time as possible with her. Just as we would with any of you."

Robb smiled in agreement. "Exactly."

"Dorne was just being greedy with her cunt," Theon muttered under his breath, quiet so the children wouldn't hear.

Jon punched him in the arm.

"Don't say that." He growled lowly to him and Theon raised an eyebrow and laughed.

"Do you like her, I suppose she'll be happy to fuck you like a bitch in heat." He taunted to him.

Jon punched him in the jaw and stormed off as everyone called out to him.

"Jon wait!" Robb yelled as he chased after him.

Jon was furious.

Theon had no respect for women.

Gods.

He reached the yard.


	2. Journey To The North

Summary: Princess Alysanne Martell had lived an easy and comfortable life in Dorne; until now. Forced into the North, she finds herself struggling to cope not only with her new home, but with her feelings for a peculiar bastard boy. Rated M for sexual scenes, violence and language. Jon/OC. Robb/OC, Sansa/Theon Greyjoy, Euron Greyjoy/Alys Karstark. Co – Written with dancewithdragons.

_**Thank you to everyone who reviewed.**_

_**To Frozen862: This isn't going to be a love triangle, we're just going to have Arianne and Alysanne go up against each other. **_

_**To phoward: Don't worry, it will not be a love triangle.**_

The Sun In The North

Chapter 2

* * *

He'd already gone through so much in one day, and Theon's jests did nothing to aid him. His anger flared, blossoming as he stormed through the yard. He'd had enough of people disrespecting women. His mother, the princess, probably more behind his back. It made his palms itch.

"Jon!" Robb called behind him, waving an arm out.

"Don't patronize me, Robb," Jon said, turning and continuing on. Robb caught his shoulder, however, and spun him back around so fast that his eyesight grew spotty. "What do you want?"

His brother frowned. "What's going on with you lately, Jon? Something happen?" He seemed genuinely worried, and Jon considered telling him the truth about why he was so upset, why he was so quick-tempered, but he decided that some things were better left secrets. Perhaps in time Jon would tell Robb of his true parentage, but he needed time to think about it himself.

"I'm fine," Jon said simply, shrugging the hand from his shoulder.

Robb huffed and held his hands up in defeat. "If you won't talk, will you at least fight?" He nodded in the direction of the dulled practice swords. "It'd be a waste to be so angry and not whack at someone with it."

Jon laughed lightly. Robb could always make him laugh. "Alright then, a duel." Robb tossed him a sword and they began, slashing at each other like a couple of children. Ducking Robb's blade, Jon bested him and pointed the sword right at his chest. He'd poked him hard enough to cause the redhead to cough, and suddenly a voice was booming from the balcony.

"You!" It was the lady Catelyn, her face burning as bright as her long red hair. "Leave my son be and go muck the stables," she said, crossing her arms and glaring. His father stood behind her now and rubbed her shoulders, calming her anger. Jon took the opportunity to leave before he was punished further.

Robb watched his younger brother go to the stables and glared at his mother who was glaring at where Jon had gone to the stables to tend to the horses and finally had enough.

"Will you stop being so horrible to Jon, mother!" He snapped angrily at her and Catelyn looked startled.

"Robb-" She started but Robb cut her off.

"If you want someone to blame, maybe you should blame King Aerys for killing Brandon!" He yelled infuriated and ran after Jon.

Catelyn watched her son leave in shock.

How in the seven, had Robb known she longed to marry Brandon, not Ned in her dark days.

Eddard wrapped his arms around his wife. "They're just boys, Cat," he whispered to her. "Must you be so harsh on Jon?"

Catelyn frowned, furious. "You bring a bastard boy into our home, feed him our food and let him sleep under our roof, and treat him as well as you treat our trueborn boy, and you expect me to love him? He's done no good since he's come, Ned, not one good thing." Her arms crossed once more and she turned her head to watch as Robb crashed the two practice swords into the bin beside the armoury and stormed off. He had his Uncle Brandon's temper at times, and she feared for him.

"Jon is my blood," her husband said, resigned. "He will do whatever you ask of him, Cat, anything at all. You don't need to be so brutal."

Brutal? Catelyn shook her head angrily. "He's filling our son's head with stories, Ned. Turning him against us; against me!" She held her arms our in defeat. "I don't know what I did, but the gods have punished me with this bastard," she said darkly.

"Cat-"

"Perhaps you should find Robb and see that he's not injured," she said pertly, tossing her hair over her shoulder and keeping her cool until her husband had gone, and hesitantly at that.

She had been his wife, the mother of his son and heir, and he had disrespected her in the greatest of ways. She had tried to treat Jon kindly, but he'd grown too familiar, too reckless. He sneaked away in the night with Robb and got her son's arm broken! She was a mother to her own children, and none else, she'd decided from then on.

She could not love a child, her husband's child, which had bloomed within another woman. The thought of Ned making love with another sickened her. She stared at Jon from across the way, watching intently as he mucked out the stables, until someone called her name. It was Theon Greyjoy. "A raven, ma'am."

Catelyn read it over twice and smiled. "My lord shall be pleased, thank you." The ward bowed and departed, and Catelyn tucked the note into her sleeve. Benjen Stark would be coming south of the Wall for the king's arrival. "Perhaps he shall take Jon back with him," she said icily, turning on her heel and leaving.

* * *

Alysanne had packed all of the things she wanted to take with her to Winterfell as she looked around her room.

She wouldn't be here for quite some time and that pained her, Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane would still be in Dorne along with their cousins.

While she would be in the cold north with a family partly responsible for her aunt and cousins deaths.

She oversaw the packing of her things onto the carts, eyeing each crate carefully to make sure nothing was broken or torn. The sun was beating down on her, hot and heavy. It made her feel like a wilting rose, her petals all drooping. Doran came to her, wobbling on a cane, and offered a glass of sweet lemon juice. "You act like the overseer," he jested as she took the glass.

Three big gulps and it was empty. "I am the overseer," she replied dully, pouring herself a new glass and drying the cup once more before returning to her place. Her father had been trying to make their last moment's together kind, but Alysanne felt nothing but disdain for the man who was sending her away like a child who had done a wrong deed.

Arianne sauntered towards her with a sweet smile on her lips. "Today is the day you set off to make Dorne proud, darling sister," said the heir to Sunspear. She was wearing a thin cloth coverlet of violet with inlays of glimmering indigo. Her curves danced inside the fabric, swaying it like wind.

"If you could call it as much," was Alysanne's dry reply. She stood tall and inspected the rope-work of one of the carts that held her jewels and baubles. "Retie this," she commanded one of the men.

Her sister huffed. "You act as if you are being scolded, Alys. This is a good thing, and some day you will see that. We all must make sacrifices for the greater good of our House."

Alysanne dared not fuel the fire of the statement. Arianne had done little in means of sacrifice for House Martell. She selfishly deflowered herself, and for all the beauty in the world, not many a lord in the rest of the realm would spare her another look, due to her indecency, heir to Dorne or no. It may be casual in Dorne to love and make love, but the whole of Westeros was not only Dorne, it was the Reach, the Crownlands, the Westerlands... The North.

Instead of commenting back, Alys kissed her sister's cheek and made way for her horse. It was a beautiful palfrey with a long smoke-grey mane and a smooth black coat. It was a gift from the Tyrells of Highgarden, who had hoped to marry her to their Garlan. He was taken with a Fossoway girl, however, and Alys was left with her pretty Nightstar.

She mounted Nightstar easily, her sandsilk pants giving her ample movement. She tugged her leather riding vest on over a cotton pullover and flipped her plaited hair over her shoulder. She swept over the farewell crowd with sad eyes. Her sister and brother Trystane were waving happily. Quentyn gave her a small smile and blew her a kiss. Her uncle had not attended, too angry to see his niece shipped off to the northerners, but Ellaria had come, with her four daughters. They all called out their goodbyes with teary eyes. Her other cousins, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene, were off skulking with her uncle, and she was hurt that they hadn't thought to at least say goodbye this last time.

Alysanne pulled herself higher in the saddle and decided that she should be off; any later and the day would have turned to night before they'd travelled to Godsgrace. Waving one last time to her family and friends, she cleared her throat. Offering her best fake smile, she called out to her procession, "shall we be off, then?"

"Yes my lady." A man called out and they began to ride away from Sunspear as the wind blew gently and she waved her family goodbye as she rode away from her home.

They continued on riding away until she couldn't see her home anymore and she let a few tears fall.

She wouldn't be going home for some time.

They would ride to the harbour and then sail to White Harbour and then ride on to Winterfell.

She felt nervous as they reached the docks.

It was windy.

The ship was called, The Sun Rises.

The great sails were that of her House sigil; a golden spear piercing a red sun on an orange field. The wind made the sails bulbous, and she watched as saltmen raised them higher and higher, until the golden silk of the spear glinted in the sunlight.

"A beauty, isn't it?" A man dressed in bright yellow and red appeared at her side, smiling and rubbing at his stubbled jawline. His black eyes darted around the ship proudly. "Raised it up from a merchant ship on my own," he said.

Alysanne raised a brow. "And a fine job you did. You must be the captain."

"Captain Rhyse, if it please my lady." The man dipped into a low bow, surprisingly graceful for how large he was. "I have never seen a woman quite so lovely as the Princess herself."

She shrugged the flattery away and eyed the docks, where her cargo was still being loaded into the ship. "Where shall my room be?" she asked, wrapping the leather vest closer to her body.

He held and arm out, indicating for her to follow. The wood of the deck was finely sanded, smooth. The mast looked sturdy enough, and the men all seemed to be strong and able. She was led by the captain down a short staircase and through a heavy black door. Inside were a plethora of cabins, all side-by-side and small. "Take your pick, princess," he said kindly.

Alysanne toured each room herself before deciding on the small corner room, with the small rounded window, so that she would have a view of the sea when she was in her room.

The captain applauded her choice and led her back onto the deck of the ship, where her chests of new northern gowns were being loaded into her cabin, her maid Elena overseeing it all. "I should like to dine in my chamber tonight," she told the captain, "With wine, and perhaps a sweet if your stores allow."

He bowed and went to the kitchens to inform them.

"We'll be ready to set sail soon, my lady," Elena said as she directed the last of the chests into the corridor of rooms.

Alysanne nodded. "And in less than a month's time we will be at the docks of White Harbor." And I will be a prisoner in the North, she thought darkly.

She felt bitter over the fact that her father was sending her so far away from home, it wasn't fair but at the same time, she was intrigued by the infamous bastard, Jon Snow.

She would like to be his friend.

She felt her lip curl as she thought of Catelyn Tully.

Edric Dayne had told her once that Lady Ashara had wept upon learning that Eddard Stark had married Lady Catelyn Tully.

Somehow she had a feeling she wasn't going to like the woman and the seven help her if that came to pass.

"Who else lives at Winterfell with the Starks?" She asked Elena curiously.

Lady Elena glanced at her.

"They have a ward, called Lord Theon Greyjoy, my lady." She told her and Alysanne nodded as she went to brush her midnight black curls.

She hoped the man wasn't like his father.

"What of the Stark children, who are they?" She reclined on the chair as her maid took the brush ran it steadily through her curls. It felt almost comforting. She remembered when Arianne would brush her hair.

Elena thought for a moment before responding. "There are five trueborn children, I believe. Three boys, two girls. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon." Her maid massaged her head gently.

Alysanne indulged on the information that she was given, wanting to know anything she could about her new family. As resentful as she was about being forced into the North, she would make a point to be a gracious guest. It was the nature of the Martells to be so. When Elena had finished the massage, Alysanne got up and changed into more comfortable clothing; a Dornish-type gown of silver with whorls of ivory climbing to her hips, a sash of golden rope across her waist to hold it tight to her curves.

She imagined five boys and girls with long, grey-eyed faces and dark brown hair, and behind them one of the same, darker, more mysterious.

"What do you know of the bastard, Jon Snow?" She asked her lady maid.

Elena frowned. "Little, my lady. Only that he is the son of Lord Stark, and that he's of an age with the firstborn boy."

Alysanne nodded. It would be silly for her maid to know more of the Snow than she did herself.

Alysanne nodded and took that in silently as she tucked into reading a book while Elena left to get some food as she thought of the mysterious Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell.

She looked forward to meeting him.

* * *

Jon walked to his father's chambers quietly, it didn't matter that Rhaegar Targaryen was his true father, Eddard Stark had raised him.

He knocked quietly and heard his uncle tell him to come in.

He quietly entered the room.

"I wanted to apologise earlier for my behaviour." He started but Ned shook his head.

"Robb already told me what happened and I don't fault you, Jon, you defended the woman who will soon be arriving here." He told his nephew and Jon smiled.

"I don't want her to feel unwelcome," Jon said. "I figured if Theon could be silenced, then the rest would follow."

Lord Stark smiled, or rather as close to a smile as the solemn man could get, and patted his nephew's back. "You're a good boy. Your mother would be proud." Jon felt his chest swell with pride. He hoped his mother could see him from the heavens, he hoped she was smiling down on him.

He bowed and took his leave, Ghost padding quietly beside him. In all the time they'd had the wolves, his hadn't made a peep. The others would howl and growl and just about anything else a wolf would do, but Ghost would just sit and stare at his brothers and sisters, red eyes intent.

In the yard, he could see where Robb and Theon were practicing their archery and drinking hot ciders. "Room for one more?" Jon asked, gliding down the stairs to meet them.

"Aye," Robb said cheerily, "If you can prove yourself."

His brother- cousin, now- tossed him a longbow and a quiver. Jon grinned and shook his head, taking stance and drawing the arrow, aiming. When he loosed the arrow, it went flying into the target, on the brink of the centre circle. "Not bad, Snow," Theon said, impressed. "I'm sorry about earlier."

Jon shrugged. "Just don't do it again."

Theon nodded as Arya came out to watch them practice.

Jon fired another arrow and it hit the target perfectly as Arya joined in as they all practised firing their bows and he felt happy for once as he fired his bow at the targets.

"When do you think Alysanne will arrive?" Arya asked her brother curiously.

"In a week." Jon told her and she nodded.

* * *

Catelyn stormed out then.

She caught sight of Jon practising with her children and felt her lip curl.

She was fighting a losing battle.

She watched her youngest daughter hug the bastard, the pair looking as thick as thieves. It made her heart stress. How could they accept him, the manifestation of their father's disloyalty to her? How could they call him brother and pat his back like they were friends?

Arya took Jon's quiver and ran from him, laughing and skipping. "Come get it!" the girl cried out, grinning. She looked just like her father when she smiled like that- but so did Jon. The bastard chased after her daughter, laughing so very much like Ned.

It made Catelyn furious. It made Catelyn sad.

Her husband came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "The dornish girl will be here in a week, and Robert as well. We must prepare, Cat."

She nodded and leaned into his body. "I want him gone, Ned," she said. "I can't have the king seeing him, or the princess. What will they think of us?"

"Robert has seventeen bastards of his own, and the princess's own cousins are bastards. Jon stays."

Ned turned to head to the great hall, to begin the preparations, and Cat felt her cheeks grow hot with the rejection. With one last look at the children, she made her way to the castle to follow Ned and start preparing for the arrival of the royal parties.

She knew they were not held in high regard by house Martell and Dorne, while Dorne accepted that House Stark had nothing to do with the deaths of Princess Elia and her two children, they were the family of Lyanna Stark.

That woman had ruined their reputation and all because of not wanting to marry Robert.

Catelyn had loved Brandon dearly, not Ned.

And yet Brandon was dead and Ned was alive.

It angered her.

"Take the fine silk sheets to the Queen's chamber," Catelyn instructed a boy, "And the foxfur coverlets to the King's."

She thought of Brandon fondly, the man she was to marry. He'd kissed her by the river and called her his lady. He fought for her against Petyr. She'd cried for days when word reached her of his death, and that she was to marry Eddard instead.

Her lord husband had never treated her unkindly. In fact, she grew to love Ned in a way she never could have loved Brandon. He was sweet and gentle, and in his own way, he was a bold lover. She recalled the night they'd conceived Arya, a flush creeping up from her chest. She also remembered how Jon had sneaked into their bedchamber to see Arya after she was born, when they were asleep, and nearly dropped her on the hard wood floor, and her anger returned to her.

Ahead of her, Ned was ushering candles to Lord Tyrion's chamber, having seen to the filling of the candles on the chandelier before it was hoisted up to the ceiling once more.

"Send the lavender soap to the Queen's chamber," she told a maid. It was common knowledge that Queen Cersei loved lavender.

She walked through the corridors alone, and stopped in front of the room that would house Princess Alysanne Nymeros Martell. It was warm, with a roaring fire. The spread of silk sheets were a sand colour, and the coverlets were of red-pelted foxes. She hoped the familiar reds and golds of Dorne would make the girl feel more at home, though Winterfell couldn't possibly be further from the Sunset Sea and the Water Gardens that she was familiar to.

She also made sure the maids had winter roses and Moonflowers brought to the Princess's room and had rose tinted soaps inside her bathroom and along with chests for her gowns and jewels.

A part of her felt ashamed for being cruel to Jon.

It wasn't he, she hated, and she hated the thought of Ned bedding someone other than her.

The fact that there rumours that Ned and Ashara were lovers, added more fuel to her anger.

She felt very bitter.

Taking a deep breath, Catelyn let the anger slip through her. That was the past, a different time. She told the maids to continue working, and she went to find her husband.

He was in the courtyard, seeing to the care of the stables. "Cat," he greeted her, surprisingly warm of tone for how she'd talked to him earlier. "Everything alright?"

She nodded and took his arm, walking him away from the ears of the servants. "I'm sorry for what I said about Jon," she said quietly. "I must ask, Ned. Who is his mother? Was she Ashara Dayne?"

Her husband looked taken aback, his hand running through his dark hair. He was silent for long, grinding his teeth back and forth. It was the longest he'd ever contemplated telling her. "Come with me," he said finally, leading her to his solar.

Catelyn couldn't believe he was really going to tell her. After all their years fighting over the boy, he was finally going to tell her who had birthed him. It made the walk a long and slow one, and she felt her heart fluttering. Was it Ashara? Or was it another woman?

When they finally reached his study, Ned took her hand and pulled her quickly in the room, locking the door behind them and moving to his desk. "Cat, there's much you need to know," he said solemnly. She took a seat across from him. "Jon... Jon is not my son. He is Lyanna's son with Rhaegar Targaryen."

She stared at her husband in disbelief. "Lyanna's son? With Rhaegar? Why haven't you told me sooner?" She didn't understand why he would keep this from her.

"I couldn't risk anyone finding out," he explained, grey eyes darkened. "If anyone knew, even you, Cat, word would surely have gotten out. Robert would have killed him. Robert will still kill him."

"Why have you only told me now?" She asked, her chest tightening. She'd been so cruel to the boy, since he was only a babe in swaddles. She'd yelled at him, been cold to him, forced him to muck stables and clean up after the cattle like a miller's boy, all because of her jealousy. All along, though, he'd been Lyanna's son. The poor boy, she wanted to run to him, to apologize.

"Jon knows now. He had to know, what his Robert coming, to prepare himself and stay away from him. If Robert sees him and can see any of Rhaegar, he'll start asking questions. He'll take Jon." Ned sighed. "I'm telling you so that you know and can make amends before the princess arrives."

Catelyn raised a brow. "Before the princess arrives?"

He exhaled again, deeper. He looked tired and pained. "When Alysanne Martell arrives, I plan on writing to Doran for her hand, so she and Jon may marry. And then I will send them back to Dorne. I'll need to tell them about his parentage. They will not be happy, but they are Targaryen loyalists to a point, and I know Jon will be safe there."

"Does Jon know?" She felt a panic arise in her for Jon as she might have felt for her own child; a feeling that had never occurred before when it came to the Snow boy.

Ned shook his head. "I will wait to tell him until Doran gives his answer. If he says no, I will have to send Jon to the Wall. I must keep him safe, and Benjen will look after him, I know it."

Catelyn frowned. "I hope it does not come down to that."

"So do I." Ned admitted and Catelyn nodded before she hurried to find Jon and found him playing with Rickon and Bran.

"Jon May I talk to you?" She asked softly.

Jon nodded looking solemn and followed her into her solar as he sat down and Catelyn took a deep breath.

"Ned told me the truth about who your mother was, I'm so sorry Jon, and truly I am." She told him meaning it.

Jon gave her a sad smile.

"I forgive you, Lady Stark." He said gently.

Catelyn nodded and gave him a tight hug.

He very shyly hugged her back.

She had never hugged or comforted him before.

He was glad they could be friends or even closer.

Jon watched as Lady Catelyn walked away, tears in her eyes.

She'd screamed at him, pinched him, whipped him, and called him hurtful things. She'd made a farce of his existence since before he could remember. It made Jon feel almost weightless to know that she now knew who he was borne of, to know the extent of her mistreatment of him. He wasn't sure if it was real, but he could still feel her arms around him. She'd never hugged him before, and it made him feel strange.

"Jon?" Bran was holding Summer's leash, his brows raised. "Are you alright?"

He nodded and went back to playing with the boys, their wariness dissipating as they trekked through the woods.

* * *

Alysanne was in her chamber when the captain came knocking.

"Come in," she called faintly, running the silver-plaited brush through her dark curls. "Is there news?"

The captain was dressed in loose silks of light blue today, with a dangling sash covered in silver medallions. His hair, greying black, was forked through until it lay flat on his head. "Yes, princess, wonderful news!" He waved his arms, exuberant. "Come, look. White Harbor!"

She set the brush down and turned, frowning. Already? She rose, flattening her skirts. She was wearing one of her new gowns, one that had been made for the North. It was heavy and restricting, covering her whole body but for her hands and head. The colour was a deep red with inlays of gold and fire opals on the bust.

They made their way up the stairs and onto the deck in silence. She had no words.

The coast of White Harbor was plain. It lay on the eastern shore of the White Knife, clean and simple. The walls were all whitewashed stone and the roofs dark slate. The streets were wide, made of cobblestone. There was no colour, no life. Her heart burned for Dorne.

"Lovely, isn't it? Largest settlement north of the Neck," the captain said, as if to curb her displeasure.

Winterfell must be a tiny thing, she thought to herself, if White Harbor was boasted as large. It was a pebble compared to Sunspear.

"It is indeed lovely." Alysanne agreed wondering if Winterfell is this large as they reached the docks and she went into her room to get ready.

Elena laced her into a warm dark blue gown of silk with red flowers on the sleeves and hemline as she braided her hair.

It was exciting.

They soon reached the ports and Alysanne pulled on a cloak of dark red with black bear fur around the neck.

It wasn't cold in White Harbor.

They soon began walking down the docks.

Lord Wyman Manderly greeted them at the docks. He was dressed in rich blue furs, a golden trident sewn onto the chest. The merman banners flapped proudly in the wind. "Lord Wyman," Alysanne greeted coolly, holding her head high and granting him a small smile.

The fat man grinned. "Ah," he breathed out, "such a lovely princess we've been blessed with. Welcome, Princess Alysanne, to White Harbor."

She nodded. "It is a pleasure," she lied. She wished for home. "Might we see to the Keep, Lord Manderly? There is to be a long ride to Winterfell on the morrow and I'm desperate for rest."

The Lord-To-Fat-To-Sit-A-Horse smiled pleasantly in agreement and called for his men to ride for White Harbor. He was in a litter, the men carrying him strong and hearty. Alysanne admired their strength; none broke a sweat.

She rode beside her handmaid, Elena. Nightstar had been seasick on the boat for the past month, cowering in fear of the rocking, but as soon as she was guided along the cobble streets she was surefooted once more. Her gait was long and elegant beneath Alysanne, keeping an easy pace with the rest of the men and women of the procession.

They reached the castle before long. Northern buildings were styled much differently than those of Dorne. Here, they were stocky and grand, with stones and many small, shuttered windows. As they passed under the portcullis, Alysanne felt a cold gust of wind and almost fell from her horse in shock of the cold sea air.

"Careful, princess," Lord Manderly called over his shoulder.

"Thank you, my lord." She called out as the wind blew her hair harshly and she smiled at the mountains and sea.

Despite her reservations, the North was indeed a beautiful kingdom with wild forests and plenty of rivers and lakes.

It was breathtaking.

She pulled her cloak around her tightly as they continued to ride and she smiled at the small folk as they came out to see her.

People waved, smiled and called out pleasantly to her as she ride past and she blushed.

Arianne was always getting the attention.

But now she was, the sister in the shadows.

She smiled properly then.

They reached the keep after a long ride up a winding road. There were grasses and flowers that she'd never seen before, birds of strange colours tweeting above them. There was a white-eyed raven cawing from a tall tree ahead. "I didn't expect there to be so much life," she expressed to Lord Wyman.

He only smiled. "There is life all over the world, princess."

They all dismounted and Lord Wyman was pulled from the litter. A dozen men carried the litter away and three stood behind the fat lord, waiting to catch him if he fell. "I'm sure you're curious about your new home," he said as they wandered into the keep. "It's smaller than White Harbor, less water around. The godswood is vast, though. The castle itself is rather warm, even in winter. It was built on a hot spring."

Alys nodded. She'd read as much when she was still taking lessons with her maester.

"The great Lord Stark is a good man, I'm sure he'll make you feel right at home." Lord Manderly was greeted by two young girls, one with a plait of brown and the other with a longer plait of dyed-green. "Girls! Meet Princess Alysanne of Dorne."

They fell into curtsies and the brunette offered a small smile. "Welcome," she said kindly. The other stood straight, eyes lingering as if she were sizing her up.

"Wynafryd and Wylla, my granddaughters," explained Lord Manderly proudly.

Alysanne smiled. "Good to meet you," she said, then turned to her host. "Shall I be seen to my rooms now?"

The man nodded and gave her a soft smile as his two granddaughters walked with her to her rooms and Alysanne actually was warming up to the North in a way.

"It's very beautiful." She said looking around.

Wylla smiled as did Wynafryd.

"Wait until you see Winterfell, its beautiful and fascinating." Wynafryd told her softly as they reached her room.

Alysanne stared in awe.

The room was quite literally built for a mermaid.

The walks were a beautiful deep sea blue and there was an outside balcony so she could see the sea.

It was beautiful.

Her chests and boxes were cluttering the halls and she sat at the vanity that was across from the four-post featherbed, covered in indigo coverlets. There was a large pool in the center of an adjacent room that tiered into a deep oval shape and the silks lining the windows were all of sapphire and ivory. It was the most blue she'd ever seen before.

Elena took to pinning her curls up and changing her into a fresh gown, one of soft green with a sash of turquoise and light blue lace embroidery. "Half the North will be on about your beauty by the evening's end," her maid said happily as she secured a gold chain with a white opal on her neck and slid thin rings on her fingers.

She lounged for barely a moment's time before she was called upon to attend dinner.

* * *

"You are very generous," she told Lord Wyman as he took her hand and escorted her to the grand hall. "My chamber is lovely. Very different than I'm used to."

He grinned, his plump cheeks squeezing his eyes nearly shut. "You are a princess, you deserve to be pampered."

They took a corner and a flight of stairs at a slow, even pace, so that he would not hurt himself, until they reached the hall. There was music and dancing happening, and she was entranced by the deep, rustic sound of drums and the heavy clicking of boots and slippers gracing the cobble floors. It was all so different than in Dorne.

In Dorne, they had parties every evening and regular feasts, the weather was always warm with an odd thunder storm to help the crops but the North had an Icy beauty.

it was truly something else.

She sat down beside Wylla and spoke to her and Wynafryd about their childhoods.

She felt they could be friends in time.

It cheered her up as they ate.

She tucked into the sea food happily.

Grilled cod with squeezed lemons.

* * *

_**Enjoy xxx**_


	3. The Sun Princess And The Winter Wolf

Summary: Princess Alysanne Martell had lived an easy and comfortable life in Dorne; until now. Forced into the North, she finds herself struggling to cope not only with her new home, but with her feelings for a peculiar bastard boy. Rated M for sexual scenes, violence and language. Jon/OC. Robb/OC, Sansa/Theon Greyjoy, Euron Greyjoy/Alys Karstark. Co – Written with dancewithdragons.

The Sun In The North

Chapter 3

* * *

The night was lively. She'd expected a dreary, dark place, but the North- or at least White Harbor- was rather exciting and vivacious. She watched in reserved excitement as the people danced and laughed along with the music. It was all so new and strange.

"I expect you'll like Winterfell," Wylla said, tossing her greed-dyed braid over her shoulder. "Even rowdier than this at times. Not so many singers go there and there are less guests, but its beautiful there."

Beside her, Wynafryd nodded in agreement. "And so are the boys," she added with a snicker.

"How so?" Alysanne propped her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her palm. The sisters were jesting, but she was very curious.

Wylla smiled. "Robb Stark's the spittin' image of his father with the colouring of a trout. Prettiest eyes I've ever seen. All the Starks look like Tullys but for little Arya."

"The ward is rather handsome as well, don't you think Wyl? Theon Greyjoy. He's so dark and mysterious." Wynafryd smiled wistfully at the thought of him.

Alys raised a brow. "And what of Jon Snow?" she asked.

Wylla shrugged. "Looks like Lord Stark. My grandfather says that he resembles the late Lyanna Stark." She picked at her plate. "He's got nice hair."

Alysanne sipped on her wine curiously. So the Starks didn't look like Starks, but the Snow did?

That was interesting information.

Alys smiled as she drank her glass of wine as they watched the others dance and joke around happily to each other and the North didn't seem so bad after all.

She wondered what Jon Snow looked like.

He probably looked like Lyanna Stark.

She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

The woman had caused her aunt shame but at the same time, Alysanne harboured her no ill will.

"What's Dorne like?" Wynafryd asked curiously and Wylla looked intrigued.

Alys smiled.

"It's beautiful. Clear water, tiger-lilies, spices. The Water Gardens are glorious." She reminisced of her home, daydreaming of the lovely summer breeze and the soft silks that would sway in the wind. She missed her silken gowns. The northern styled gowns were so heavy and hot.

"I'd like to visit Dorne one day," Wylla claimed as she drank a heavy cup of cider. "Mayhaps I'll marry a dornishman."

Wynafryd pursed her lips. "I'd be so fearful of being away from home," she said softly.

Alysanne sighed. She hated being so far from home as well. Suddenly she felt tired. "Well," she said, "I feel I must retire. I bid you good night, ladies. I'll make sure to write you when I'm comfortably at Winterfell." She beckoned for Elena to come and help her from her seat, and they walked together to her chamber in silence.

Alys undressed and dipped into the cool, sweet water. It felt so nice on her hot skin, and she scrubbed at the dirt of travelling with white sand and rosewater scent. She scrubbed at her hair and rinsed it all off, leaving the tub and patting herself dry with a plush cloth. Once dry, she dressed in a sleek nightgown of plum purple and plaited her dark hair, already curling.

She then wrote letters to her family, assuring them she was well and watched as Elena took them to be sent and got under the warm covers as the moon shone outside.

She could soft howling of wolves.

Her uncle had always said the Northmen were wolves.

She smiled as Elena lit a candle for her and bid her goodnight.

"Goodnight, my lady." Elena said softly.

"Goodnight Elena." Alysanne said drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Jon sat on the balcony of his chambers and glanced around quietly.

Princess Alysanne wold arrive soon.

He was nervous.

The castle was a bustle of men and women pushing their way through the streets to make it to their destinations. Candles were being delivered to the castle, as were sheets and linens and robes. Jon watched all of it disappear into the great keep.

"Wild, isn't it?" Robb said from behind him, and Jon turned. "We've never had such an important guest in Winterfell. Everyone's running around like headless chickens."

Jon laughed. "A little while ago Father said that his men spotted the Princess's banners flying about an hour's distance away. He's sent Jory to escort her to the gates. They should be arriving soon."

Robb nodded. "She'll be rooming beside Sansa, close to Father and my mother. I caught a glimpse of the room; all red and gold and orange. It's like a little dornish hideaway."

"Thank the gods she'll have something to remember her home by," Jon said as they walked to the courtyard, where the Stark family would be lining up to properly greet the princess. "Mayhaps it will make her feel better about living in the North."

Sansa and Bran stood together, talking happily. Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark were chasing after baby Rickon, trying to tie his cloak onto his shoulders. "Where's Arya?" Robb asked, raising a brow.

"Most likely with the commoners. She'd have a better view of the carriage arriving if she was atop a cart. She'll come soon enough." Jon and Robb went to their places- Robb beside his father and Sansa, and Jon behind them, next to Theon.

"Here she comes," Theon said with a snide smirk. "Gonna drop to your knees at the sight of her, Snow? Ask for her hand in marriage?"

Jon clenched his fist and shook his head. Theon wouldn't get to him now, not when he must be a pillar of welcoming energy. The horns sounded and a little girl in a dark grey gown came running between them. It was Arya, tossing a helmet behind her and standing between Sansa and Bran. Jon chuckled.

The first horses to come through the gate were that of the Stark escort, and then the banner men that held the flags of shimmering orange silk, the red sun pierced by a golden spear dazzling the northern crowd. Then a fine horse, finer than the others of the procession, with willowy legs and a silver-smoke mane came trotting in. Jon felt his feet freeze to the ground.

Atop the horse was a lithe woman with long black curls left loose, wind-licked and falling to the small of her back. Her skin was a smooth tan, and her rich brown eyes scanned the crowd quickly. She was donned in her House colours; a winter gown of gold with rubies on the bust and orange myrish lace embroidery. She was Princess Alysanne Martell, and she was beautiful.

She looked like she was the sun herself as she dismounted her beautiful black mare and the horse whinnied softly as she walked towards them, Jon felt his heart race furiously.

She then curtsied to Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"My lord." She said curtsying to him.

Ned smiled at her warmly.

"My princess, welcome to Winterfell." He said kindly.

She gave him a proper smile then as Elena walked behind her.

She then said hello to everyone and then saw Sansa Stark, the Red Rose of Winterfell.

She smiled.

"It's an honour to meet you." Sansa said honestly.

Lady Catelyn rushed to introduce her children. "This is Robb," she said, pointing to her firstborn. "And there is Sansa, Arya, Bran, and this is Rickon." The youngest Stark was holding onto his mother's skirts, sucking his thumb. "And that there, that is Jon."

Jon's head snapped up at the mention of him. The Princess had eyed each Stark with pleasure and smiled to them all, but when his name was mentioned she seemed to grow in her curiosity. She stared at him for a long time, tilting her head to the side before allowing a delicious smile to curl on her lips. "I've heard much about you, Jon Snow," she said. Her voice was so foreign but polished. Jon's palms felt sweaty.

"Princess," he replied. It sounded stiff and Theon shoved at him with his elbow. "Welcome to Winterfell."

She grinned coyly. "Thank you."

The Lady of Winterfell guided her into the Keep with a smile, talking endlessly about its beauty and how she'd come from further south and grew to love the North like she'd been born in it. Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon followed her inside.

"She's a beauty," Robb said, awestruck. "Looks like no woman I've seen before."

Jon had to agree. "She's very pretty," he said quietly.

"Don't be shy now, Snow. You were drooling when she said your name." Theon laughed bawdily and Jon punched his shoulder.

Jon glared at him as they followed the others inside the keep and he saw Alysanne talking deeply with Lady Catelyn and Sansa and Arya before they were led to her chambers along with her handmaiden.

Ghost licked Jon's hand gently.

Jon scratched his ear softly as they went to their rooms to prepare for the feast.

* * *

Doran Martell stared at the letter Lord Eddard Stark had sent him and nodded.

It was a worthy match.

Jon Snow, the supposed bastard of Lord Eddard Stark was indeed Lady Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's son.

He wrote back to the Stark Lord to approve of the match.

He then summoned Oberyn.

His brother came in looking annoyed.

"What is it?"

Doran slid the letter to him. "Lord Eddard Stark seeks a match for his bastard son. He claims he is the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. They were married before his birth. He is Jon Targaryen."

"And you mean to sell our Alysanne to the child of the man that betrayed our sister and his own children?" Oberyn tossed the letter away. "You're a fool of a man for giving up your daughter to the whorespawn of a boy."

The Prince of Dorne raised a brow at his brother. "You are not one to speak of whorespawns," he said levelly, and the Red Viper looked like he would boil. "Alysanne is mine to give, brother, as are my other children, and as are you and yours. I am the ruling Prince of Dorne and if I say she shall marry this Jon Snow boy, then she shall. He is the true heir to the throne, Oberyn. If we back his conquest, we shall see the Targaryens restored."

"Do you truly believe that? We have no proof of this boy being the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. All we know is his name, Doran! We back Viserys Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen, not this swine's son. Rhaegar was a beautiful fool and he forsook his family for that wolf bitch, but he would not be such a fool as to birth a son by her."

Doran crossed his arms. "Alysanne will marry this boy, and the Martell and Stark blood feud will be over. The Targaryen dynasty will rise again through Rhaegar Targaryen's son, the one true heir to the Iron Throne. Soon the realm will be as it was, and we shall have our revenge on the Lannisters by supporting his claim. With House Martell being the leading royalist supporters of this Jon Snow, he will be sure to grant us the deaths of Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane."

"And Amory Lorch, who stabbed sweet Rhaenys twenty times? And Cersei Lannister who sleeps comfortably in the very chamber that our sister was raped and murdered in? What of Jaime, the kingslayer? Will he give us all their heads?"

Doran shrugged. "We cannot be sure the extent of his generosity to us," he said, "but we can be sure that with Alysanne as his wife, we will be the most secure House in the realm."

Oberyn gave him a look of disgust.

"You're a fucking craven, have you forgotten what the Mountain did to our sister and nephew, how he threw Aegon against the wall and smashed his brains in and then raped ELIA!" He roared enraged.

Doran slammed his fist on the table.

"Enough!" He shouted coldly and Oberyn was silenced.

"I do not trust Arianne by marrying Jon, she would use him for her own gain and here is proof of Jon being a Targaryen, brother." Doran said giving him a letter, which was in Elia's handwriting.

"You did not tell me sooner?" Oberyn looked near tears at the letter's words. _'Rhaegar's fathered a son', it read, 'a boy named Jon with Lyanna. He tells me that the boy is strong.'_ He'd not seen his sister's handwriting in fourteen years. Doran sighed as Oberyn flashed in anger at the words. "Rhaegar the Unloyal's bred a boy," he said darkly, "Who will be just as unloyal as his sire."

"He won't be unloyal to his wife and to his cause. He was raised a Stark; unwavering honour is a trait of theirs."

Oberyn flared. "Raised as a Stark who won't dare pick up a sword against the Throne, against his "father's" best friend. So long as Robert Baratheon lives, Jon Snow won't bother trying to win the throne. How will the small folk ever believe him?"

"They will believe him because Jon Snow will make them believe."

Oberyn left the room in a sweeping anger, and Doran leaned further into his seat, exhaling deeply. He prayed for Alysanne, and that she would understand in time what this marriage would mean for House Martell and for the realm.

He hoped she would understand and forgive him.

Arianne could not marry him, she would be Princess of Dorne, when he was dead.

He needed to find her a husband soon.

Perhaps one of the Karstark's?

He nodded and began to write.

_'Dear Lord Rickard Karstark.'_

* * *

When he finished the letter and the raven had flown away, Doran called for Arianne.

"Father," said the woman as she entered. She was twenty and fierce with curves like a woman well past her years. Her curly black hair reminded him of her mother.

Doran motioned for her to sit and she did. "Arianne... I've made arrangements to wed you to Harrion Karstark."

For a moment his eldest daughter thought him to jest and she laughed, but when his serious stare burned her long enough she understood and her eyes turned into coals. "The Karstarks of Karhold? In the North? You'll send me away like some broodmare just as you did my sister? I am the heir of Dorne! I cannot run of and marry a minor lord!"

"You will marry Harrion Karstark and you will do it proudly as a service to House Martell. We have just received word of Jon Snow's true parentage, Arianne. He's the son betwixt Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen. Alysanne will wed him and we will back his claim as the one true heir to the throne. You, as a Karstark, will be his undeniable family and ally. Together, you and Alysanne will have all of Dorne, and with Harrion and Jon at your beck-and-calls, the North will follow suit. We can revive the Targaryen claim to the Iron Throne."

Arianne stared at him in disbelief. "Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen? They were married?" Her father nodded and her eyes grew wider. "If Jon is their trueborn son then he had the highest claim to the Throne than anyone- even Viserys! Why might I not marry Jon? Alysanne will fail you, father, but I can make you proud."

"Alysanne will do her duty by me more than you would. You lust power, daughter. She lusts freedom. And she shall have it; so long as she listens to me. You are set to marry Harrion within the moon's turn. He will come to Dorne and be your consort."

Arianne bubbled with anger. "Why won't you send me to Essos then, and marry me to Viserys? He is Jon's uncle by all rights, and it would secure Dorne to the Throne permanently! Two Martell Princesses with the last Targaryen Princes, think of it, father!"

Doran raised a brow and spoke frankly. "I do not trust you with Viserys. You will want the Throne for yourself- or worse, he will want it. We cannot have Dorne divided. I have chosen Jon as our King to follow, and with half the realm on our side between Dorne and the North, Viserys would have better luck convincing a cow that he was the heir over his nephew."

"But Harrion Karstark is the heir to the Karhold!" Arianne said trying to desperately find a way out of the marriage that her father had placed her in and she was enraged.

"Torrhen Karstark has been named heir and he will marry Wynafryd, Lord Rickard Karstark had arranged for his only daughter Alys Karstark to marry Euron Greyjoy, it seems he owes the man a debt."

"You forgot the Umbers, Hornwoods and Mormonts." Arianne said snidely.

Doran smiled, having already received word.

"Lady Dacey Mormont is marrying Lord Small Jon Umber and Lady Alysanne Mormont is marrying Daryn Hornwood, heir of House Hornwood." He informed her coolly.

Arianne was seething.

"Alysanne is weak!"

"Alysanne knows her place!" Doran told her with finality.

His daughter rose and ran from his solar in a rush, presumably to the Sand Snakes. He hoped he was right and that backing Jon Snow was the right thing, because if it wasn't and the boy didn't want to be king... Doran prayed.

* * *

Alysanne was shown the castle by Lady Catelyn Stark. The woman was still young, with long red curls and bright blue eyes. Her children truly were her mirrors, but for the young little Arya that followed the princess with fervour. "Do you practice weapons in Dorne?" She asked intrigued.

"Yes," Alys answered. "I prefer the bow. I have a beautiful double curved longbow in my trunks. When they are unpacked perhaps I will go and practice it with you. If that is alright with you, Lady Catelyn." Her host smiled and nodded, and Arya jumped in excitement.

"I named my direwolf Nymeria," said the little coltish girl. "Like the warrior princess."

Alysanne smiled. "I have a cousin Nymeria. She's rather the warrior."

Arya smiled happily. "A Sand Snake!"

Sansa rolled her eyes at her sister. "The Princess doesn't want to talk about all that," she said, head held high. "Your rooms are here, right next to mine," said the pretty little wolf, her dainty direwolf Lady padding at her side. It was the best-behaved beast she'd ever seen.

"Thank you," she said warmly before entering her chambers. The colours were of home, and she felt her heart twist. She yearned for Dorne and the hot white sands of the beach. She turned to Lady Catelyn. "This is perfect," she admitted, "It's just what I needed. Thank you."

"You are very welcome, my dear." Catelyn told her with a kind smile before leaving her to settle in as Elena came in and joined her in the room and smiled.

"It's a lovely room." She commented impressed.

Alysanne smiled as she saw winter roses in a glass vase and breathed them in.

They smelt beautiful.

She could like it here, she decided with a smile.

* * *

Ned had asked to speak to Catelyn and she had hurried to his solar.

"What is it Ned?" She asked concerned.

Ned breathed in.

"Robert wished to marry Sansa to his son, Prince Joffrey, so instead I have arranged her to marry to Theon Greyjoy." He told her.

Catelyn wasn't sure what to say.

She was privately relived, Lysa had told her what a little beast Joffrey was at Kings Landing.

"Theon, though, Ned... He's so frivolous with his women. Sansa wouldn't be able to take being treated ill by him. And he's so much older than her... He's nearly twenty!" Catelyn pursed her lips. "But I suppose anything to keep her from the capitol." Sansa had wanted to be a lady at court her whole life, but Cat knew what the southern court would do to Sansa... she wished more than anything to spare her daughter the pain.

Ned nodded. "It will mend the tear between the bond of Houses Stark and Greyjoy. I will give them lands here in the North to stay in until Balon dies and Theon becomes Lord of the Iron Islands."

"What if Robert persists? What if he wants our Robb? Our boy?" Catelyn began to fret, but Ned held her hands tight.

"Robert won't have our boy," he said firmly. "And if he wants him, we'll marry him to a northern girl first."

Catelyn frowned. She hated the idea of her children marrying so young. It made her heart break. Sansa to marry Theon, Robb likely to marry a stranger they haven't yet met. "Is there word from Dorne?" she asked. Would Jon be married off as well?

He nodded. "Jon and Alysanne will wed once Robert is gone. We can't draw attention to Jon while he is here, or he'll notice the dragon within him. Doran is having Harrion Karstark brought from Karhold to wed his Arianne, the heir to Dorne. Whatever he's planning, it involves the North's support."

Lady Stark sighed. "And we'll be sending Jon and Alysanne south, then? To Dorne?"

"It might be the only way to keep him safe," Ned said solemnly, and she knew the idea of losing Jon broke his heart.

She hugged him then tightly.

"I've wronged him Ned." She said ashamed.

Ned kissed her hair tenderly.

"He forgives you, and I've talked to Lord Allem Dayne, his sister Allyria Dayne will marry Robb." He said with a smile.

Catelyn smiled.

"What about Alys Karstark?" She asked curious.

Ned chuckled.

"She's marrying a certain Crow's Eye." He told her.

Catelyn raised a brow. Alys Karstark to wed Euron Greyjoy? It was an interesting match to say the least. She thought of the young, green-haired Wylla. She was a fierce girl, pretty enough. Had she let her soft blonde hair grow, rather than dye it, she might be sweeter on the eye. She and Robb got on well enough the last time they'd come to Winterfell.

"Yes," she said softly, "That will work. We will tell Robert that Robb is betrothed, and Sansa as well. I'll go tell her now. You should speak to Robb, he'd like to hear it better from your lips."

She made her way to Sansa's chamber quickly, where she found her daughter sewing. Her auburn hair was tumbled over her shoulders, glimmering so beautifully in the candlelight. Her child's blue eyes looked up at her through long lashes, prettily. Everything Sansa did was pretty. "Mother," she greeted with a smile.

"Sansa," Catelyn greeted back, taking a seat beside her. "Darling, I have news for you... Your father and I have decided to arrange a marriage for you."

Her daughter's eyes glittered in excitement. "I'll be a lady wife? Oh mother, do tell me who it is! I must know who my husband will be!"

Catelyn pursed her lips. "Theon Greyjoy."

The excitement in her eyes died down a little, and her smile fell. "Theon?" She seemed hurt. "Theon kisses Jeyne Poole behind the kitchens and Septa told me he's vile... why would you marry me to a man like that?"

Lady Stark frowned. "I know Theon may seem bad now, Sansa, but he's a fine match. He's the heir to the Iron Islands and I'm sure once he's informed of the betrothal he'll stop being so... vile. Your father would not pick a man who would mistreat you."

Sansa tossed her needles and silks away. "I don't want to be married to Theon. I want to live in the Iron Islands and worship a stupid drowned god!" Her daughter ran from the room and Catelyn sighed. Soon enough she would make amends with the idea of it. She would have to.

* * *

Jon walked around the yard with Ghost at his heels, following his every step. It was too hot in the castle, and he needed time to himself. He twirled his mother's ring on his finger, tracing the diamond eyes of the wolf over and over. He was to marry Alysanne Martell, the princess of Dorne, and she would wear his mother's ring on her olive-skinned finger as a sign of their union.

His father had come to him after Robb went smiling down the hall. His brother would marry young Wylla Manderly, if everything went according to plan, and he would marry the princess. Not until after King Robert had left, of course. There could be no interactions between Jon and the king, lest Jon want to have his head on a pike.

Ghost ran behind him and Jon turned on his heel to catch him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up.

Princess Alysanne was petting the little direwolf with a smile on her face. She was dressed in a tight-fitting gown of light green with golden lace on the bodice and dagged sleeves. Her long dark hair was pinned up, a few curls dangling around her face, framing it. "Jon Snow," she said brightly when she saw him.

He felt his palms sweat. "Princess," he greeted, bowing. She approached, Ghost padding beside her. "How are you enjoying Winterfell?"

"It's beautiful here. Lady Stark did wonderfully with my chambers and the fresh air is like nothing I've smelled before. It's lovely." Her smile was contagious, for Jon felt his lips beginning to curve upwards. "I hear we are to be married," she said bluntly.

His eyes widened. "You know?"

"Of course I know," she said, laughing lightly as if their engagement were common knowledge. "My father sent me a raven with the news. It's very sudden. I'm not yet sure what to think."

He pursed his lips. "Neither am I... I had always thought I would go to the Wall with my Uncle Benjen," he told her honestly.

"Well, things have a way of changing, don't they?" She grinned and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps you'll find me at the feast tonight?"

He watched her go, her flowing skirts blowing in the breeze. Ghost's red eyes stared after her as well. What an interesting woman his wife-to-be was, glowing like the sun in the grim North. She made him both intrigued and nervous.

Gods, he needed to talk to Theon.

Something he found uneasy, the man would laugh at him.

H walked to the tiltyard and found Theon firing arrows at scarecrows with his bow as he came over.

"I need your help, Theon." He said finally.

Theon looked surprised.

Jon needed his help.

"Is it something to do with Princess Alysanne?" He asked teasingly.

Jon nodded.

"She is to be my wife." He said keeping his voice calm.

Theon laughed.

"And you want to know how to please her?" The Greyjoy asked smirking.

Jon glared but nodded.

"Well, you can't please a woman with a face like that. You have to look alluring." Theon put on his best face, and it made Jon fall into a fit of laughter. "Oy, I didn't tell you to laugh. Just listen." The Greyjoy boy looked like he would bristle at any moment. "Now, you have to be nice to her. She won't want your cock if she thinks you're a bastard."

Jon took in all the information that Theon gave. It was insightful. "Pull out her chair and all that other green boy shit that women like. Get her a present. Those sort of things," said the ward. Instantly Jon thought of the story of little Princess Rhaenys' kitten, Balerion. Perhaps Alysanne would like her own little kitten.

Robb came out of the castle and ran to Theon, decking him in the jaw with his fist. "Robb!" Jon got up and grabbed his arms, restraining him. "The bloody hells are you doing?"

"That bastard is going to marry my sister!" The heir to Winterfell was seething. "You fucking prick! What'd you do, pay my father for her?"

Theon raised his hands in defence. "I don't even know what you're talking about, Stark! What do you mean I'm marrying your sister? Sansa?"

"Of course it's Sansa! You bloody idiot!" Robb was as red as his curls. "I swear on the old gods, Theon, if you hurt my sister I'll fucking kill you." All the humour between Jon and Theon had dissipated. The ward rubbed his jaw, looking shocked. 'He really didn't know', Jon thought to himself.

He left Theon to himself and walked off with Robb, looking over his shoulder at the ward as he presumably went looking for Lord Stark. "That wasn't necessary," Jon said to his brother. "He didn't even know, Robb."

"Let it be a lesson to him. If Sansa comes crying to me about Theon kissing on that steward's daughter Jeyne Poole or that he's mistreated her I'll not be so kind as to let him get away." Robb looked to him. "Sansa's our sister, she'll not be treated wrong."

Jon pursed his lips and looked away, giving an absent nod. Sansa had never been Jon's sister, in fact, she openly misliked him and had never been kindly to him like she had been to Robb. She wouldn't even walk in his direction if she could help it. He knew it was because she thought he was a slight against her mother, and she was too young to know better than what Catelyn told her, but it still hurt a bit. He'd loved all the Stark children as his own siblings. Even Sansa.

Although she would prefer to see him dead.

Arya was his favourite sister, she loved getting dirty and practising swords and archery, Jon understood why people said she was Lady Lyanna reincarnated from the grave.

She understood him.

Sansa hated him.

He adored Bran and Rickon though, they never treated him differently.

"YOU BASTARD!" Sansa screamed running towards him.

Robb and Jon looked alarmed as did Theon.

"Sansa?" He asked confused.

She slapped him.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, I HAVE TO MARRY THEON GREYJOY!" She screamed as Arya hurried out with Alysanne.

"Sansa stop it, it's not Jon's fault!" Arya cried out.

Sansa slapped her and then rounded on Jon.

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE BORN AND CAUSE MOTHER SO MUCH PAIN?!" She screamed at him furiously.

Lady Catelyn was then seen coming out looking very angry.

"Sansa Tully Stark, you come with this instant and apologise to your brother and sister, YOUNG LADY!" She was shouting by the end.

Sansa paled.

"But mother." She protested heavily.

Arya's cheek was as red as a ruby, the print of a hand marking her. Her lips quivered as her grey eyes bubbled with anger. "You're so stupid!" The little coltish girl ran off, and Sansa was left with her dress in the mud.

"Everything is ruined," Sansa cried, sobbing in the mud as her mother tried to pull her up.

"You," she said, pointing to Jon. "You ruined everything! If mother didn't hate you so much then she'd never try and get me away from you by marrying me off! This is your fault, you're horrible! I hate you!"

Catelyn rushed Sansa into the castle, and Jon felt his heart drop. He knew none of it was true, but it stabbed into him like a knife. "She doesn't mean it, Jon," Robb said softly beside him. "She's hurt is all, just doesn't know where to put her anger."

Jon sighed and nodded in agreement, though he felt very differently. He had ruined everything; by being brought into the world. If he hadn't been born and killed his mother, mayhaps Robert would have married her. Maybe Jon Arryn wouldn't have died, and Sansa wouldn't be marrying a man she hated.

He watched the sun lower and the moon rise, and retired to his chamber. It was time to prepare for the feast.

He numbly sat down in a chair and looked at Ghost.

"Just you and me, boy." He said sighing.

* * *

Sansa knew she had acted cruelly towards Jon and he hadn't even done anything wrong to her.

He just made her so angry.

And she knew her mother was angry at her.

Her mother had sat down and looked at her coolly.

"We need to have a talk, my girl."

"I don't want to talk," Sansa whispered, stripping down to her undergown and slipping into the freshly filled tub to clean herself.

Lady Catelyn crossed her arms. "You might be able to take that tone with Septa Mordane, but not with me. I am your lady mother." When Sansa nodded, just barely, she continued. "Theon is not a bad match," she repeated from earlier. "And it is certainly not Jon's fault that you're to marry him. Your outburst was not appreciated, child."

"Yes, mother," Sansa said quietly as she finished washing before stepping from the tub and drying herself off. Catelyn picked the pretty blue gown that Sansa had sewn the year before for her to wear, and she dressed carefully.

"Sansa, look at me." She did, and Catelyn thought she were looking at herself when she were a girl. "You're young, you do not yet understand, but this is for the best. You don't have to be married right now, anyways. We can take our time, years if that's what's best. This is for your own good, Sansa."

The girl frowned sadly. "Mother, I don't like Theon. I can't be his lady wife."

"I didn't like your father when we first met. He was quiet and cold and he didn't spare me a second glance. But I love him very much now. I know that if you try, Sansa, your marriage to Theon could be a very happy one. He'll see what a beautiful lady you are and soon enough Jeyne Poole won't get within a fathom's distance of your betrothed." Her words did little in means of comforting her daughter, and she sighed, pulling her in for a hug. Sansa was so young, she couldn't possibly understand her circumstance. If she married Joffrey... Catelyn would have feared day and night that she was unharmed.

Sansa nodded and suddenly remembered all of the times Jon would play with her.

She had never meant to be so cruel to him.

"Now I expect you to apologise to your brother and sister before the feast and become friends, Jon has been nothing but kind to you Sansa and you've constantly thrown it back into his face and humiliated him." Catelyn said gently but sternly.

Sansa nodded as Lady yawned.


	4. Chapter 4 AUTHORS NOTE

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello dear readers, I'm sorry for the delay but Dancewithdragons is unable to co write anymore and if anyone would like to co write The Sun In The North with me, message me and let me know.


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